It's Beginning to Get To Me
by Relised
Summary: "Bipolar is hereditary, you know" Kev had told him. And maybe at the time Mickey would have recognized the signs. But when Ian spirals out of control, there's nothing more Mickey can do. Mentions of suicide, character deaths


_I don't own Shameless._

* * *

**It's Beginning to Get to Me**

"When they're good, they're good," Kate said, wiping down a table, a small smirk on her face as she watched Frank and Monica dance.

"You know, Veronica says it's hereditary," Kev said, placing another beer down in front of Mickey's seat. Mickey glanced up, raising a brow at the bar tender.

"What's hereditary?" Mickey asked, blowing smoke out of his nose after he took another puff of his cigarette.

"Bipolar," Kev said, searching Mickey's face, and the ex-con had a horrible feeling that Kev knew about him in Ian.

"Why you telling me this?" Mickey asked, taking a gulp of his beer. Kev gestured to Monica who was laughing and twirling in circles, Frank holding her hand high above her head.

"Just looking out for your sister. I know she's dating Ian. One of those kids is bound to get it. My money's on Debbie. Or maybe Fi, she's been through enough shit in her life. But you never know. Sometimes I think those kids are lucky Monica took off when she did. They don't have to deal with her on a daily basis. She never did stay on her meds." Mickey lit another cigarette and shrugged.

"I'll pass that on to Mandy," he said, tapping the bar for another beer as he finished his second. Kev sighed but nodded.

His mind wondered to Ian. The red head had been hiding out at the Milkovich's. Terry was in prison again, and most of his brothers were either in jail or staying with their latest fucks. Every night Ian waited until he thought Mickey was asleep to curl around the ex-con, his fingers curled in the hair at the base of Mickey's neck. Ian never talked about how much he hated Monica being home; about how he used to get his hopes up when she came around even if he knew she'd take off again.

It was Mickey Ian ran to after Frank started smacking him around again. "I just look like Monica," he had mumbled with a shrug, a bruise steadily growing to cover his cheek. "I look like her and I don't stand down. So he thinks he has to impress her by taking it out on me. But it's okay, Mick, I can take it." Mickey had growled, digging his fingers deep into Ian's hips. The look on Ian's face was the only thing keeping him from murdering Frank.

Mickey had found him, sitting on the Milkovich's front porch, hugging his knees on Thanksgiving. Ian had woke early, kissing Mickey's forehead when he thought the ex-con was still asleep. He left a note on Mickey's door saying he'd gone home for Thanksgiving dinner, but he'd be back later. Mickey had been shocked to see the boy so soon, leaning back inside to grab his coat and a pack of smokes before closing the door quietly behind him.

"You okay?" he asked, offering his lit cigarette to Ian who took it with shaky hands. Ian shook his head, running his free hand through his hair.

"Monica tried to kill herself in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner," Ian whispered, and Mickey hated the way his voice shook.

"At the table?" Mickey asked stupidly, not knowing what to say. Ian shook his head, taking another hit off his cigarette.

"Told me she was going into the kitchen to get something to drink. 'Bout five minutes later there was this loud noise when she fell. Slit her wrists in the fucking kitchen. Carl and Debs saw everything." Ian slammed his fist into the porch. "As if those kids aren't fucked up enough…"

"Same can be said about you…" Mickey whispered, knocking knees with Ian.

"I've been through it before. Monica always leaves; maybe it would be better if she actually did die so we wouldn't have to worry about it anymore."

"And this is why I can say you're fucked up, Gallagher," Mickey mumbled, taking the cigarette out of Ian's hand that seemed to be shaking harder.

"Yeah, well. We're both fucked for life. We've got our own reasons." With that Ian climbed to his feet, reached out and grabbed Mickey's hand and dragged him back into the house. They fucked facing each other that night, Ian's grip on Mickey's hips almost painful. Mickey pretended that he didn't see the tears running down the red heads cheeks. Instead he leaned forward and nibbled a path up the younger boys throat, licking across his collar bone until he bit hard into Ian's shoulder. Ian moaned arching into Mickey, hitting the spot Mickey had never known existed until he started fucking Ian.

Ian fell asleep curled up against Mickey, his body shaking with silent sobs when he thought Mickey wasn't paying attention. Mickey ran a finger down Ian's spine, knowing this was the gayest thing he had ever done. He hated how upset the taller boy was; Mickey had never seen him so wound up. If Mickey had his way, Monica would be dead by morning. Turned out he never had to do anything because she was gone within the week.

* * *

It was a year before Mickey even thought about anything Kev had said the month Monica was home. He'd somehow managed to stay out of prison, kept his job at the Kash and Grab, and even managed to get a second job as a janitor at the high school. And on top of all of that, Ian and Mickey were closer than ever.

Terry Milkovich had been killed in jail; Mandy hadn't even shed a single tear. "Now Mickey's safe," she had said simply, and Ian had chocked on his beer when he realized Mandy had known the entire time.

"Wait you know about Mickey?" He asked, his eyes wide.

"Uh, yeah," she said, giving him a weird look. "And I know he's been fucking you for over two years, too."

"Technically, I'm fucking him," Ian said, his cheeks turning red, and Mickey had thrown a golf ball at his head.

"She didn't need to know that, Firecrotch," he had growled and Ian had just shrugged with a smirk.

Since Terry was dead, Tommy and Joey were in prison, and Jessy had was on the run, Mickey felt safe being with Ian. They didn't flaunt it in public, but he didn't force Ian to flee as soon as they were done fucking. Most nights Ian would curl into Mickey as soon as they were done, rather than waiting for Mickey to fall asleep. All in all, Mickey thought it was a pretty good deal. As far as he was concerned, Monica didn't exist and there was no such thing as bipolar.

It was a month after Terry was killed when Mickey noticed something was different. His janitor shift ran from 4-10 pm, starting right after the school cleared off for the day. It wasn't anything hard; sweeping and mopping floors, dumping trash, wiping down chalk boards, moving boxes. Nothing he couldn't do. His manager even told him that as long as he left the windows open, they didn't care if he smoked inside. He even made more working at the school than at the Kash and Grab.

He had just started on the second floor, unlocking classrooms so he could dumb the trashcans. It was quiet; Donnie, who normally worked the 4-10 shift with him, had taken the night off and left Mickey to himself. He about jumped out of skin when someone touched his elbow. He turned on his toes, cursing as he swung his elbow back. He was gasping, his eyes wide when he realized it was Ian standing behind him.

"What the fuck. Jesus, Gallagher," Mickey said, shaking a cigarette out of his pack. He clinched it between his teeth as he lit it, rolling his eyes when Ian stole it out of his mouth. "What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be working at the store?"

"I told Linda I was going to be late. Let's mess around." His eyes were lit up, a devilish grin across his face. Mickey raised an eyebrow.

"I can't lose this job…" He whispered, catching Ian's wayward hand as the red head reached for Mickey's junk.

"No one's here! It's just us. No one will even know," Ian wiggled out of Mickey's hand, pressing himself up against the shorter boy.

"What are you on?" Mickey asked, letting his hands rest on Ian's hips. He'd never seen the boy like this.

"Nothing. I just really want to do it here. You have key's right? Can we do it on Mr. Hayes desk? He's such an asshole, he deserves it." Ian pulled away from Mickey, grabbing the ex-con's hand and dragging him off towards the chemistry room.

"Ian…" Mickey trailed off, trying to pull Ian back to him. And just like that Ian from green to red.

"You don't want me?" Ian said, a horrified look on his face. Mickey cursed under his breath when the red head's eyes went wide and filled with tears.

"Hey, no, no-don't pull that shit on me," Mickey growled, intertwining his fingers in Ian's and pulling the taller boy close to his body. "You know I want you. We just can't do it here, not right now. The school just closed for the day-there's always people coming in and out of here until like seven every night. We're bound to get caught and I've got to keep this job. Mandy and I are barely scrapping by."

"Did I do something wrong?" Ian whispered, grabbing a fistful of Mickey's shirt, his eyes still wide.

"Ian, you know you didn't do anything wrong. We just can't do it here. Now go on, get to the store. I'll head over there as soon as I get off, okay? We can fuck in the back room like old times, okay?"

And just like that, Ian was happy again. He grinned, stooping down to kiss Mickey, his hands wrapped around the back of Mickey's neck.

"'Kay," he whispered against Mickey's lips, the grin on his face growing. "Love you!" Ian turned on his toe and ran down the stairs, waving at Mickey over his shoulder.

"I don't know what he's on, but I want some…" Mickey mumbled, shaking his head as he went back to cleaning.

* * *

"What the fuck!" Mickey growled, covering his face with one hand and grabbing Ian's flying fist with the other.

"You're an asshole!" Ian yelled, grabbing his shirt as he stormed out of Mickey's room. Lip, who had been in Mandy's room, stuck his head in the door a couple minutes later.

"What the fuck happened?"

"Nothing! I was just trying to get my arm out from underneath him without waking him up so I could go piss and the fucker freaked out and punched me." Mickey rubbed at his eye as he sat up, feeling around for his shirt.

"He punched you for that? Are you sure?" Lip asked, perching on the edge of couch in Mickey's room.

"Yeah. He's been really weird lately. Do you know what he's been taking?" Mickey stood up, cracking his back as he moved into the bathroom. Lip rolled his eyes, not even phased that Mickey was so open in front of him.

"As far as I know, nothing. He'd pretty much cut everything out this past year since he's trying to get into West Point. What do you mean by weird?"

"He's just all over the place," Mickey answered, trapping a cigarette between his teeth and looking around for a lighter. He nodded his thanks when Lip handed one, taking a big hit. "He's showed up at the school like three times in the past two weeks trying to fucking jump me while I'm at work and then gets upset when I turn him down. I haven't seen him eat in days and we both know he's a bottomless pit. He's just weird…"

"I don't know…" Lip said, chewing on his lip. "I'll keep an eye on him, though. You okay?"

"Fuck, Gallagher. I'm fine. Just once you find out what he's on, tell him I want some." Lip rolled his eyes, flipping Mickey off as he left.

Ian snuck back into Mickey's room three hours later once the darker haired boy was asleep and snoring. Ian bit his lip, toeing out of his shoes as he took his shirt off. He paused at the end of the bed before crawling slowly up the bed, spooning close behind Mickey.

"Mmmm," Mickey mumbled, burrowing back into Ian.

"I'm sorry," Ian whispered, kissing the back of Mickey's neck.

"Shut the fuck up, Gallagher," he whispered, intertwining his fingers with Ian's and falling asleep.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Mickey asked as he paused at the back door of the Kash and Grab. Ian looked up with wide eyes, his hand in the crash drawer.

"I was going to surprise you," Ian said, glancing down as he counted out three hundred dollars. "You're birthday's tomorrow."

"Yeah, I'm aware," Mickey said, a brow raised. "What does that have to do with you skimming from the register?" Mickey shut the back door behind him, glancing up at the camera's the Linda still kept turning on at random.

"Casey Matthews, that guy that sells guns under the el, got a good one. A luger. I was going to get it for you for your birthday," Ian looked down at his feet, not wanting to meet Mickey's eyes.

"Gallagher, you're not buying me an illegal gun," Mickey whispered, crossing the room. "Especially since you're stealing from Linda to buy it."

"But your birthday…" Ian whimpered, taking a step closer to Mickey and stretching his hand out. Mickey sighed, intertwining their fingers and pulling Ian close.

"You don't have to get me anything for my birthday," Mickey whispered, his lips pressed against Ian's forehead. "I don't even care about my birthday. It's fine, Ian."

"I…I…"

"It's _fine_, Ian," Mickey said a little more forcefully, squeezing Ian's hip. "Now let's put this money back in the draw. Come one, let go, Ian." Mickey whispered quietly, wondering when he became the responsible one. Ian whimpered, burying his face in Mickey's shoulder as Mickey awkwardly side stepped them back to the register. He kept his hands around Ian's back as he hit a couple buttons and the draw popped open. "When's the last time you ate?"

"Not hungry," Ian mumbled, groaning as Mickey gently pushed him back down onto the chair. He greedily grabbed the beer Mickey placed in front of him, downing it in one go and reaching for Mickey's beer before he even had the chance to open it.

"Hey, slow down," Mickey said, grabbing Ian's wrist as he went to pull another beer out of the six pack.

"Since when are you such a pussy?" Ian asked, a sneer on his face.

"Since I'm the one who has to clean up after you when you get plastered and don't eat," Mickey said, catching Ian's hand as the teen swatted at him.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. Close up when you're done," Ian said, pushing his way past Mickey. The ex-con groaned, leaning with his head in his hands.

* * *

Mickey didn't know where Ian got the gun, but he actually wasn't surprised when Ian showed up on his birthday with a gun. It wasn't the luger, but it was nice enough.

"I told you not to get me anything," he whispered up against Ian's ear as the teen threw himself at Mickey.

"It's your birthday," Ian whispered back, as if that was the only explanation he needed. Mickey rolled his eyes, nipping at Ian's ear as he pulled back. He smirked at the target Ian had set up; the card board cut out clearly supposed to be Kash. Mickey squeezed Ian's arm before he moved to unlock the gun and take aim. After a few rounds he turned to Ian who grinned.

"Can I try?" the red head asked and Mickey nodded before handing the gun over. Mickey wasn't concerned; he knew Ian had perfect aim from his ROTC training. The ex-con approached the fence to grab a different target when Ian started shooting. He had his back turned, so he never saw the bullet that entered his left shoulder and going right on through to the other side.

"Fuck," he growled, dropping to his knees, reaching up to press on the wound.

"Oh my God, Mick," Ian yelled running up to Mickey, the gun still in his hand.

"Drop the gun before you shoot me again, god damn it!" Mickey patted around his jean pockets, pulling his phone out with shaky hands as Ian hovered, his face stuck in a grimace as tears poured out of his eyes. "Lip, I need you to come get your fucking brother….Behind the fucking store…It was an accident, before you jump down his fucking throat. Yeah, he shot me-I'm fine. I just need some fucking stitches and I can't drag your fucking crack head brother with me. Just come get him!"

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Ian sobbed, his hands digging into Mickey's other arm and his body shook.

"It's fine," Mickey said through clinched teeth, pressing tighter on the hole. "Just stop talking."

Ian hugged his knees closer to his body as he watched Mickey slowly raise to his feet and pick up the gun Ian had dropped. With a groan, the shorter boy wiped off Ian's prints from the gun and kept his shirt wrapped around it as he threw it in a trash can a little ways down. He looked up and sighed with relief when he saw Lip running their way. Lip didn't say anything as he crouched down in front of Ian and grabbed his chin.

"What did you take?" he asked, prying open Ian's eyes as he looked at him closely.

"Nothing!" Ian whimpered, pulling his head lose. "I'm sorry, Mickey! I'm so sorry!" Mickey hated how the red head shook so much, Lips hands gripping his shoulder.

"I said it's fine. Can you do something with him? I think I need a couple stiches. I'll check back in with him when I'm done." Mickey shifted on his feet, grabbing his shoulder again. "Just try to get him to eat something."

"Yeah, I've got him," Lip said, pulling Ian to his feet by his elbow. "Dude, I really am sorry."

"For the last time, I'm fine Gallagher," he growled, not even looking at Ian as he pushed past.

* * *

Ian was a roller coaster of emotions the next two weeks, and even Mickey had to say he was concerned. Which said a lot considering Mickey didn't worry about anything. Sometimes Ian would be quiet, seemingly lost in his own mind. Other times he would jump on Mickey before they even got the door closed. After weeks of Mickey trying, one afternoon Ian finally ate, downing an entire large pizza and two bags of chips in one sitting. He'd randomly show up with frivolous things that Mickey had no idea how he was getting the money for. It was all too much for Mickey to keep up with.

"He's not on anything," Lip said, taking an offered cigarette from Mickey as they sat in the center stairwell of the high school. "Trust me, I've checked everything. If he's taking something, I can't find where he's hiding it. And his eyes never dilate-he seems clean."

"You call that clean?" Mickey asked, snorting in disbelief. "He's a mess."

"I have an idea of what it could be..." Lip trailed off quietly, not looking at Mickey.

"Yeah? What? And where's he getting it from?" Lip bit his lip, shaking his head sadly.

"It's not drugs, Mick," Lip said, rolling his shoulders. "You know about Monica, right?"

"No," Mickey said firmly and Lip raised a brow.

"Well Monica's our mom, and she's bi-" Lip started, flinching when Mickey swatted at him.

"Yes I know about your fucking mother. But I'm saying no, Ian's not like her. He can't be." Mickey couldn't stop thinking about what Kev had said about bipolar being hereditary. But Mickey refused to believe that was possible.

"I'm just saying, we've got to cover our bases," Lip said, flicking his ashes on the floor which made Mickey glare. "But we'll just keep an eye on him. Maybe he'll just shake out of it." Mickey sighed and nodded, climbing to his feet.

"Got it. Now get out of here, I've got to finish up here." Lip rolled his eyes but nodded, leaving without saying goodbye.

* * *

The day everything went to hell, it was a miracle Mickey found him in time. He'd been sitting at his house, drinking heavily by himself. He had the day off from the school, and he had opened the store so he had the night off. Ian was supposed to close that night and Mickey was going to head out soon to make sure the kid wasn't left by himself. He had just let his head fall back, hoping to take a little nap before he left, when his cellphone rang.

"Yeah?" he mumbled, his eyes closed.

"Mickey, can you do me a favor?" Linda asked and Mickey had to swallow the groan.

"What?" he asked, non-too friendly but he was sure that Linda wasn't shocked.

"Can you swing by the store and check on Ian?" Linda asked, and he could hear a lot of background music. "We're visiting my parents for the weekend and I'm nowhere close to store."

"He's a big boy, Linda," Mickey said with a sigh. "He works there by himself all the time."

"Mrs. Pierce just called me," Linda said, and Mickey hated that she sounded worried. "Ian put the be back in 15 minutes sign up about an hour ago and locked the door. Which he doesn't do when you aren't there. I've tried calling but he's not answering. I'm just worried." Mickey groaned, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

"Fine. I'm going now." He hung up without another word, shoving his shoes on his feet. He walked quickly, his mind working a million miles a minute, afraid that something was wrong. He walked around to the back door and let himself in, ducking low under the garage door. He looked around and nothing seemed out of sorts.

"Ian?" he called, glancing behind the counter as if he thought Ian would be sitting there. "Ian come on, this isn't funny." He glanced around, chewing on the inside of his thumb as he went. He wasn't sure why, but he paused outside the cooler. He let out a shaky breath as he hit the button, almost as if he knew what he was going to find.

There was so much blood on the other side of the door and Mickey instantly thought he was going to be sick. Ian was pale, more pale than usual, and blood was pooling on the surface of each wrist. Mickey cursed, grabbing a pile of towels that were sitting in the storage rom.

"Ian?" Mickey said, wrapping the towels around the teen's wrists as he watched him with wide eyes. Ian's eyes were still open, and he blinked slowly when Mickey said his name. "Ian, what did you do?" Mickey held his cellphone between his ear and his shoulder, tightening his grip on each bloody wrist.

"Yeah, I'm at the Kash and Grab on Lewis," Mickey said, and Ian whimpered. "He tried to kill himself. We're in the dairy cooler. I don't know if he took anything, I just found him. Yeah, I'm doing that. Just hurry." It amazed Mickey at how quickly the ambulance showed up, the paramedics coming in the back door as if they knew the front door would be locked. Mickey fell back, his hands shaking as he watched them work to save Ian. They loaded him onto a gurney and led him out the back door.

"You coming?" The paramedic asked, and Mickey didn't even think twice before he climbed in the back of the ambulance.

* * *

Mickey had his head in his hands when the Gallagher's showed up. Lip squeezed his shoulder as he fell into a chair next to him.

"I'm sorry," Mickey mumbled, tugging at his hair.

"It's my fault too," Lip whispered. Mickey sat back, his leg shaking. He watched Fiona who was rocking back and forth with one arm wrapped around Debbie and the other around Carl. The girls eyes were red and Mickey hated how bad he felt. Kev and V sat nearby, V holding Liam who was asleep. Jimmy stood behind Fiona, squeezing her shoulders as she tried to keep herself from crying.

They sat in the waiting room for a long time, and Mickey hated how his hands shook and how they were still covered in Ian's blood. Mandy showed up after a half an hour, sobbing as she threw herself at Lip. Mickey hated that even now, she still got all the attention. After what felt like hours, a doctor game out calling for Fiona.

Mickey didn't ask, but climbed to his feet and followed Fiona. Fiona sighed, looping her arm in the ex-con's and Mickey figured she'd known about their relationship without Ian ever saying anything.

"It was a close one, but we've gotten him stable, Ms. Gallagher. We've gotten him sedated now to give his body a chance to get a bit stronger. Do you know if your brother's taken anything recently?" Fiona glanced at Mickey who shook his head.

"No, he's not taken anything. He doesn't use." The doctor nodded, marking something in Ian's chart.

"There's…there's a history of bipolar disorder and depression in our family," Fiona said, and Mickey flinched when she tightened her grip on his arm. "Our mother's bipolar." The doctor nodded, checking his chart again.

"We're going to keep him for at least 72 hours to make sure he doesn't try to harm himself again," the doctor said. "What he really needs is more than likely a 60 day stay so we can be positive what's exactly wrong and get him started on the right medicines that will help."

"He's been all over the place lately," Mickey whispered, and the doctor raised a brow.

"We'll get to the bottom of this," she said, pulling a paper out of Ian's chart. "To keep him for a sixty days, we need a guardian's signature."

"I can sign it," Fiona said, having finally convinced Frank to sign over his rights. She gave Mickey a sad smile as she signed the paper and handed it back. "Can we see him, before you take him in?"

"He's sedated right now, and for the first 72 hours we don't usually allow visitors. But once we transfer him over to the psych ward you can visit every day during visitor hours. Go home, get some rests. We'll work him out." Fiona sighed but nodded, tugging Mickey along with her.

* * *

Mickey sat on the Gallagher's couch, holding a beer that he'd opened two hours ago but had yet to take a drink of. Debbie, Carl and Liam had been sent to bed, even though Debbie repeatedly woke up crying and searching out Fiona. Kev and V had left after a while, whispering that they'd be right next door if they were needed. Lip had left, wanting to go check on Mandy who was still upset. Mickey could here Jimmy snoring upstairs. He didn't look up until there was a squeak on the stairs.

"Hey," Fiona whispered, dropping down next to him. "You okay?" Mickey shrugged, scratching his head.

"It took an hour to get all the blood off. I probably should have gone back to the store to help clean. Linda will be pissed at the mess when she gets back."

"I'm pretty sure she'll understand, Mick," Fiona said, a sad smile on her face. Her eyes were still red, and Mickey hated how calm she was.

"I guess. I should have seen this coming…" he whispered, rubbing at his eyes. "He's been so out of whack for like the last month. I just thought he'd snap out of it. I never thought…"

"You never do," Fiona said quietly, pulling the warm beer out of Mickey's hand and placing it out of his reach. "Mickey, I need you to do something for me," Fiona said, and Mickey raised a brow.

"What?" he asked, chewing on his thumb.

"I need you to not pull a Frank and try to break him out," she whispered and Mickey flinched. He hated that he never even thought about it until she mentioned it. "I hate him being in there just as much as you do. But there's one thing I've learned from Monica is that you can't just ignore bipolar. This is going to be the best for him, Mick. They'll get him balanced out, keep something like this from happening again. He's got to do this; it's for his own good." Mickey nodded, rubbing his thumb over his lip.

"I know," he said after a while. "I know he needs this." Fiona gave him a small smile and they sat in silence for a while.

"I overheard Frank talking about Monica once," Mickey said, searching for a cigarette but instead pulling out an empty pack. "He said she was different on her meds. That she forgot everything she loved."

"Monica only loves herself," Fiona said, and Mickey noticed the edge to her voice. "Even on her meds, all she cared about was herself. And it might just be me, but it looks like Ian's cared about only himself lately. Maybe once they get him started on these meds he'll think about you again." Mickey shrugged, staring at his hands. "You can stay her for the night. Couch is all yours. Or Ian's bed. It doesn't matter to me." With that she patted his knee and walked off. Mickey just nodded, looking away.

* * *

"Just wait here, we'll bring him out to you," a short blonde nurse said to him after he signed in. Mickey nodded, dropping down onto a couch in the small waiting room. There was no one else there, and Mickey wondered if soon the Gallagher's would stop coming to visit Ian, too. He chewed on the inside of his thumb, wanting to be anywhere but where he was. He glanced up when there was a loud buzz and watched as Ian shuffled out, an orderlies hand on his elbow. Ian fell gracelessly on the couch, watching as the orderly walked away.

"Hey," Mickey said, reaching out to touch the red heads knee. He pulled his hand away, though when Ian flinched. "How you feeling?" Ian swallowed thickly, running his hands over the thick bandages that were wrapped tight around his wrists. The stiches itched, but he couldn't figure out where the end of the bandages were to get them off.

"Okay," Ian said with a shrug. "I…I'm sorry," he whispered, and Mickey sighed, taking Ian's hand.

"I'm only doing this because they're locking your up for sixty days," Mickey mumbled, squeezing the red head's hand as he leaned over and kissed Ian's forehead.

"I'm sorry you had to find me," Ian whispered, still not looking up.

"Rather me than Debbie and Carl. Or Mandy," Mickey whispered, running his thumb over the bandage on Ian's wrist.

"I'm just like Monica," Ian whimpered, and Mickey pulled him close to his chest. "I look like her. I'm gay like her. And now I'm crazy like her. I'm just like fucking Monica."

"No," Mickey said firmly. "Because you aren't going to run off on your responsibilities once they get you leveled out. And you're going to fucking take your meds, and not be a pain in the ass like your bitch of a mother. And you're not going to forget about me, or your family, or my sister, okay? Because they love you. I..." Ian let out a sob, his fingers fisting around Mickey's shirt."

"Are you going to get me out?" Ian whispered, glancing at the nurse just outside of the room.

"No," Mickey said sadly. "I promised your sister not to pull a Frank. At least not this time. Let's just get you balanced out first, okay?"

"Glad you assumed this is going to happen again," Ian mumbled bitterly, and Mickey could see they obviously hadn't found the right balance yet.

"You're going to be okay. In in two months when they let out, I'll be right there waiting, okay?"

"I can't get into West Point anymore," Ian whispered and Mickey sighed, because he already knew that. Lip and him had looked into it and knew Ian would never pass the psych requirement. Mickey ran his hand over Ian's arm, holding his finger up to ask the orderly for a just a minute longer.

"I know," he whispered. "But everything's going to be okay. Just do as they ask, take the drugs, be good, and come home." He placed a kiss on Ian's forehead, rubbing his thumb over the bandages on each hand. Ian sighed climbing to his feet slowly. Mickey watched as his red head slowly walked away, knowing things weren't ever going to be the same.

* * *

Mickey hated that he wasn't surprised that Ian started refusing his meds about six months after he was released from the psych ward. He wasn't too proud to admit that sometimes he'd crush them up and stick them in Ian's food. But that also involved convincing Ian to actually eat. His eyes constantly looked dead, and sometimes Mickey wasn't sure Ian actually knew what was going on. He drank like a fish, smoked like a chimney, and lashed out at anyone who ever got too close.

Mickey had worked late one night; his usual 4-10 shift at the school and then 10:30-midnight at the store for Linda. The single mother had taken over more shifts when Ian had gone away and they had just gotten into a habit of never scheduling him alone when he did work. When he finally got off work, he stumbled home to what he thought was an empty house. He pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it into a corner where he'd never find it again. He took his pants off, leaving him in his boxers. He walked into his bedroom, frowning when he found a pair of Ian's shoes. He shrugged, walking into the bathroom to piss. And that's when his world stopped.

Ian was in the bathtub, which was filled with water stained red. His face was impossibly pale as his head lulled to the side. Mickey cursed, crashing to his knees. He crawled over to the tub, reaching out with shaky hands for Ian. The red head wasn't breathing, there was no heart fluttering under Mickey's hand. The ex-con pushed the body away from him, feeling like he was going to be sick.

And the worst part was, Mickey wasn't surprised. He'd known this would happen. They had gotten word that Monica had finally succeeded in killing herself a couple weeks before. And Mickey, Fiona, and Lip had thought that was finally going to be motivation for Ian to go back on his meds again; anything to prove he wasn't like Monica. Apparently it hadn't been soon enough, though, and now Mickey had no idea what to do. He hesitated in his room, glancing around. He saw the gun and knew what he was going to do before he even picked it up.

He was pretty sure this was the gayest thing he'd ever done. It was definitely the gayest. It was like Romeo and Juliet without the romance. Mickey went back into the bathroom and sat in front of the tub. He kept his eyes on Ian as he put the barrel of the gun in his mouth. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should leave a note. He decided against it, though. Ian hadn't left one. And he was pretty sure his sister would understand why he did it when they found Ian. Mickey took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and then blew his brains all over the wall.

* * *

Lip stood in front of Ian's grave, biting his lip as he watched Fiona cry. A row over, Mandy was laying on the grass, sobbing above Mickey's grave.

"Do you think Mickey ever said it?" He asked, and Fiona glanced up at him, the question clear on her face. "Do you think he ever told Ian he loved him?"

"I don't know, probably not," Fiona whispered, rubbing her hands over the engraved letters. "But he obviously did though, right? I mean why else would he have stayed. Especially when Ian went off his meds."

"Not that he every really took them efficiently in the first place," Lip mumbled, squeezing Fiona's shoulder. "But to end it like this…Mickey had to have loved him. I just hope Ian knew that." Fiona nodded, climbing slowly to her feet.

"I never thought it would be Ian," she whispered, taking Lip's hand as they walked away. "Out of anyone of us, I had you pegged," and Lip smirked, shrugging.

"I'm not even offended. Mandy's pregnant," he said, totally changing the subject. Fiona looked at him with wide eyes. "It's a boy. We're going to name it after them; after Ian and Mick."

"I bet you Mickey would have hated that," Fiona said with a sad smile. "But Ian would have loved it." Lip licked his lips, nodding.

"At least they're together," he said, and he really believed that. Because even if Mickey was a hardass who didn't show emotion and who definitely didn't say I love you, he had cared about Ian. And Ian had loved him. And in the end, maybe that's all that matters.


End file.
